Of Earth and Judges

You bear my criticisms against the way you live,
The choices you make,
For your failure to let go of that which is already lost.
Your back is scourged by my vituperations,
Striking like a whip on flesh,
Ripping, tearing with each lash,
Merciless and unyielding.

Exulting myself a god to adjudicate,
I hurl castigations like the lightning bolts of Zeus,
As though striking the Earth enough times will alter its rotation.
You are as the Earth:
Immune to my strikes, ever running your course;
And though locked in the monotony of revolution,
Freer still than this spirit,
Embittered and jaded.

I offer no justification for my hypocrisy;
Irony is to lie with a harpy,
And I am damned for it;
Yet its unequivocal slave I remain,
Gnashing my teeth in obsequious throes,
And incited with jealousy over those with more.

For that reason I condemn you,
Flame your name with aspersions and disrepute,
And feign myself the wiser for eschewing your imprudence;
Yet when all is said and done, you remain as the Earth:
Trapped in gravity, obeisant to your sun,
But a sun you have,
And fearsome Mars and beautiful Venus your fellowship,
And at day’s end I find myself alone,
For my success in letting go of that which I believed was already lost.

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